


fragments

by ColorblindCity



Series: in short, shallow gasps [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, F/M, Multi, Poetry, implied prostitution, implied unhappy relationship, implied whatever you want to be implied, may or may not add a second drabble to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorblindCity/pseuds/ColorblindCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there’s a telephone number<br/>scribbled on the back of a photograph,<br/>but the frame hides it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fragments

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, man. Make of it what you will.

 

 

 

 

the clock doesn’t tic anymore,

the paintings on the walls are crooked, 

the chandelier uses electricity 

and the wineglasses are made of silicon.

 

the curtains can’t be closed, 

the floorboards on the staircase squeak, 

the crucifixes multiply around her

and the chairs are occupied by stuffed bears.

 

there’s a telephone number

scribbled on the back of a photograph, 

but the frame hides it.

 

the mirror in the boudoir 

reflects men in suits 

and a title in mediocrity 

hanging proudly on the wall.

 

the armoire goes from ceiling to floor, 

but inside it is empty as night; 

the clothes are slung over the chairs, 

covering the stuffed bears from the public eye.

 

 

 

only one remains exposed, 

all the time regardless of

fights, pleas and orders.

It is imposing, but also the softest.

 

it wears a coat black as coal

and around its neck hangs a blue scarf. 

It seats at the head of the dining table, 

back facing the bedroom door.

 

a gift is always awaiting her in the kitchen,

after a long day at work,

in a glass vase filled with clean water. 

 

she sighs and plucks each petal off,

_He loves me not_

_He loves me not_

_He loves me not_ -

 

 

 

she lets them drop,

and says to herself: 

“I never knew I could have 

a fetter made of blossoms.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
